


Things Unsaid

by Mycaruba



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 02:33:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5273246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mycaruba/pseuds/Mycaruba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a last-ditch effort in getting over his crush on Dan, Barry writes an email that he never intends for anyone else to see.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things Unsaid

No matter how much someone might want to hide certain facts, things usually came out one way or another. Still, Barry tried. He tried very hard to balance cordiality and friendliness in his interactions with Dan in the same way he always had, before he'd made the idiotic mistake of falling in love with him. He was constantly measuring how much he spoke with Dan and making sure it wasn't much more than the amount of time he spoke with anyone else. He was always on guard, making sure his gaze didn't wander during idle moments when they were in the same room together or linger on Dan's lithe form. Putting forth so much effort to act natural was becoming exhausting, and it made him want to spend less time at their shared apartment; the irony of being in love, in Barry's case, was that it drove him farther away from the man. Tonight, he was in a dimly-lit bar, draining his second beer and already lifting his hand to flag down the waitress for a third.

 

“Another Miller Light, sweetie?” the waitress asked chirpily, wondering what was making this guy want to drown his sorrows in horrible beer.

Barry smiled blearily and nodded, not trusting himself to open his mouth as he felt a tremendous belch coming on. She sashayed away and he burped surreptitiously, feeling his throat burn and wondering what the hell he was doing here. _Would it be that bad? Just to tell him and get it out there?_ He ran a hand over his face and went over the reasons again. He had no doubt that Dan would reject his advances; the man was as straight as they come. So why put himself through that? On top of that, Dan would probably feel uncomfortable, maybe even guilty, about living with Barry and want to move out. That would prompt Arin to ask what had made him leave, and eventually everyone would know about his stupid little crush. At best they would all be tremendously sympathetic and tiptoe around his feelings, an idea which made Barry want to dry-heave (or maybe it was the beer). At worst, well...Barry didn't think they would outright _fire_ him, but he knew that everyone involved in Game Grumps wanted a friendly, fun atmosphere, and his mopey, broken-hearted presence would eventually drag down the mood and force them to cut his editing responsibilities until he was basically gone anyways. 

 

It wasn't  _just_ the crushing rejection Barry already knew he would face; his and Dan's lives were intertwined in a way that made his feelings very inconvenient. He had tried to deny the feelings at first, thinking they were just the result of spending so much time with Dan. Once he knew they were real, he tried to mitigate them, telling himself that Dan was  _just a guy. Just a goofy, silly, lovable, sweet, wonderful person who I want to spend all my time with and make happy._ No matter which way he sliced it, he knew he was in love. His thoughts, when otherwise unoccupied, eventually made their way back to him. How his laugh made Barry's heart swell; how his habit of singing in the shower every morning was so nice to wake up to; how his simple presence was more grounding and calming than any relationship he'd ever had. Why give up all that just to tell Dan his secret and get rejected anyways? But this new tension...Barry knew he couldn't keep it up. He needed to resolve this somehow, get back to a normal state of being with Dan. It was either that or get a new apartment, a new job, a new set of friends, all without telling any of them  _why_ . He could imagine the look on Dan's face when he told him was walking out of his life for no discernible reason, and he couldn't bear the thought of hurting him like that.

 

Barry ran his thumb over his phone lockscreen, which was currently a picture of Dan rocking the fuck out at the Steel Panther show. He really needed to change that before anyone saw it and started asking uncomfortable questions; he liked seeing it there, though, and no one ever saw his phone except him. Struck with a sudden idea, he logged into his email as the waitress brought over his Miller Light. Nodding very slightly in acknowledgment, he lifted the glass and drank half of it in one swallow. His fingers began moving over the miniature keyboard, composing an email that he intended to send to himself. Maybe if he laid out all these feelings, all these thoughts that part of him had been dying to share with Dan for months now, he could get a handle on them and start acting like a normal person again. No one but him would ever see this message, and it would help him clear his head and get a grip on himself. This was it; it was now or never.

 

_Hey Dan,_

 

_I just wanted to let you that I'm in love with you and have been since that day you ate all my Count Chocula. You might be wondering what the hell that has to do with anything, you probably don't even remember this, but you ate the count chocula that I had specificlaly bought for myself, and I got kind of mad, and you said sorry like a thousand times, and you said you didn't know that it was all for me, and that you'd buy me as much as I wanted, and then you looked at me with this super apologetic look on your face and this pleading in your eyes for me to forgive you, and I felt like my heart was going to burst out of my chest, and I felt like kissing you until you stopped feeling bad, and I felt like you could kill my parents and I would forgive you as long as you looked at me that way. But all I said was 'ok, go get me three boxes, then' and then I kind of punched you in the arm like bros do, but inside I was screaming, and I was kind of terrified but also kind of overjoyed. And ever since then, every time I look at you, or think about you, or hear your voice which is literally what I do all day, I can feel that same heart bursting out of chest feeling, and I keep picturing myself beig your boyfriend, and cooking for you, and wrapping you in blankets when you're cold, and going shopping with you, which we already do, but like in a cute way, and going on trips with you, and holding hands, and kissing, andfeeling like you love me the way I love you. God, I want that so bad, Dan, I really do, but I know it's not going to happen, and it kills me to have to keep this hidden, but I just know it would ruin everything between us, and I love you too much to let that happen. So please forgive me for being such a coward, but this is the only way I can ever tell you what I feel. I really hope this makes it easier for me to be around you, because I miss you, and I don't want to stop being your friend just because i'm dumb and have feelings._

 

_Yours,_

_Barry Kramer_

 

He looked over the email, feeling drained but satisfied for the first time in a long while. Barry finished his beer and sighed, shutting his eyes; all that was left was to send it. He briefly considered simply closing the page, feeling like he'd got the worst of his pining out already, but some part of him wanted to hang onto this message, so he could look at it again when he was a little more coherent. A small testament to the depths of his feelings for Dan; a secret little gem of pure emotion that was his to keep, like a page in a diary that gets shoved under the bed when other people are around. He peered at his phone, vision blurring, and typed out his email into the address bar, hitting send with a final flourish. He leaned back into the booth, feeling warmth spread through his body. After a minute of unthinking bliss, a small voice piped up in the back of his head.  _Usually, when you get an email, your phone goes off. Your phone didn't go off just now._ Another voice chimed in.  _Well, maybe that doesn't happen when you send something to yourself._ Sure, that made sense.  _Well, no,_ the first voice said,  _remember you sent that picture file to yourself last week? Your phone went off then, I'm positive._ Barry's breathing became infinitesimally more labored; someone sitting across from him probably wouldn't even notice it. He couldn't give into the panic just yet; he didn't know for sure that something had gone horribly wrong. Still, he couldn't stop the slow crawl of dread that traveled from his chest outwards and covered his arms with goosebumps. Like a prisoner trudging towards death row, he slowly opened his eyes and craned his neck downwards to look at his phone. Yes, it had sent, all right. The little green check mark indicated that he had sent the email, no less than two minutes ago, to danavidan@gmail.com.  _Oh._ Barry launched himself from the booth, knocking over his beer glass and startling the hell out of the people sitting at the bar. He ran outside, and he fully intended to keep running, to just go and never ever look back. If he kept running, maybe he wouldn't have to deal with what had just happened. He wouldn't have to hear...

 

His plan to sprint away from his problem was cut short when he tripped over a rock and landed face-first on the thankfully soft grassy patch just past the front entrance. This sudden whole-body hit triggered a reflex that he'd just barely been holding back, and he threw up approximately three beers' worth of vomit. He lay there, sprawled on the ground, feeling small, jagged rocks rubbing against his junk, when he felt a small patter of rain kick up.  _Sure. Why not._ The door behind him opened noisily and he heard a pair of heels clicking on concrete.

“Hey. Are you okay?” It was his waitress, concern evident in her voice. Not that he deserved it.

He sighed deeply, feeling his whole body deflate. “Not really. I tripped on a rock and threw up and now it's raining on me.”

“No, I mean...here.” He felt something soft drape gently over him and noticed it smelled like flowery perfume. “That's one less problem,” she said sweetly. “What I meant was, um...you looked like you were going through something back there, and then you just ran out...are you gonna be okay? Did you get some bad news?”

“Kind of.” He attempted to roll onto his side so that he could stand up, wincing as his knees cried out in pain. “I just, um...I kind of screwed up my whole life without even thinking. I did something...said something I shouldn't have, by accident, and now...” He gestured to himself pitifully; a drunk man, covered in grass stains, vomit still dripping from his lips, standing in the rain with a girl's purple sweater draped over his shoulders. She smiled sympathetically. “Well, I won't say that it's not that bad, because I don't know your life and I _hate_ when people say that when they don't even know what the issue is. But just know, whatever it is, you'll probably come out of it okay. Or at least alive.” She shrugged. “As long as you can make it through whatever it is, you can walk away from it with some battle scars.” Strange as it was, her words seemed to give him strength. “I guess you're right,” he mumbled begrudgingly. “It...I'll survive.”

They smiled towards each other, and Barry pulled her sweater off and held it out to her. “Thanks for this.”

“It's cool. And don't worry about the beer, I'll take care of it.”

“Are you sure? I can just-”

“Really. Just go take care of yourself, and when you're past it, come back and see me. Let me know how it went, okay? I need to get back in there, though. Take it easy...”

“Barry.”

“Kristen.”

“Thanks, Kristen.”

“Oh, I almost forgot. Here.” She reached into her pocket and held his phone out. The sight of it made him want to heave again but he inhaled sharply through his nose and took it from her hand. She gave him a final smile before shrugging on the sweater and heading back inside. He glanced down at his phone and noticed that he hadn't gotten a freaked-out call from Dan just yet. Maybe he hadn't checked his email. Maybe...Barry's eyes lit up as he gasped. Maybe it wasn't too late. If he could go home and sneak onto Dan's laptop, he could delete it--

_Bzzz_

The screen lit up with Dan's name and face; it was a picture from the day they had moved in, and Dan has been orgasmically shoving a slice of pizza into his mouth after a long day of lifting boxes. Barry considered not answering; he briefly entertained the thought yet again of just running as far as his legs could go. Which, at the moment, was not very far. _Just get through it._ He pushed the button to answer the call and lifted it tentatively towards his ear.

“Hello?” he answered shakily.

“Hey, Barry, it's Dan. Umm...I don't know if you're, like, busy, but can we talk about the email you sent me?”

“Um...I'm, um...” Barry could feel his heart beating wildly, almost painfully, and he couldn't seem to find the air to speak.

“Are you okay? Where are you?” How could he sound so calm?

“Uh, I'm at Zanni's Bar, and I don't know if I can...”

“Do you need me to pick you up, Bar?”

The sound of Dan's affectionate nickname for him was like a stab through the heart. He was gasping and near-crying when he said, “Yeah, please, I...I can't--”

“Okay, I'll be right there.”

Barry hung up the phone, feeling like he could breathe normally again. Dan's behavior was puzzling; he'd read the email, seen Barry spill his guts out in a drunken half-stupor, and he wasn't freaking out on him. He seemed more concerned for his safety and well-being. _It's just Dan being nice. He's a nice guy, that's why you..._ Barry knew that he could expect a soul-crushing speech about how it just wasn't meant to be, how sometimes things didn't always work out the way you'd like. He gripped his hair and moaned; this wasn't supposed to happen. He hadn't _meant_ to send the damn email, it was supposed to just be a little bit of self-therapy. He could have _sworn_ he'd typed in his own email address, but in his drunken stupor, and with Dan so fully in the center of his mind, he must have put in his name accidentally. He huddled under the thin canopy that was leaking rainwater in rivulets down the sides, shivering and feeling pitiful and vulnerable. Barry was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he didn't notice Dan's car pulling up towards him until a short honk made him jump. His insides churned at the sight; it was too dark to see the inside of the car, and he tried not to imagine a look of anger and disgust on Dan's face. He slowly, stiffly opened the side door and clambered inside, avoiding Dan's gaze.

“Hey, Bar. You doing okay?” Dan said cautiously.

Barry sniffled and felt his lip tremble; he shook his head and felt Dan moving closer to him. His arms wrapped around Barry in a warm and comforting hug, and he spoke softly to him. “Listen man, just...just tell me what's bugging you. I promise, whatever it is, we can work it out.”

God, he was going to make Barry explain everything, wasn't he? As if he didn't already know.

“Th-the email I sent you.”

“Yeah?” Dan said, putting the car in drive.

“Well, that's...that's what's bothering me.”

“What about it? I mean, I did notice a few misspellings, but otherwise it was pretty good, considering you were presumably drunk as hell.”

Barry's mind felt foggy and sluggish; there was something here he wasn't grasping. _Why isn't he freaking out?_

“I...I sent you an email declaring my love for you, Dan. _That's_ what the problem is...I didn't mean to send that to you.”

“You didn't?” Dan asked, now sounding as befuddled as Barry felt.

“Wha...I...”

“Ok, I feel like we're having two separate conversations here, so let me clarify a few things. First of all, why were you drinking alone at a shady-ass bar on a Wednesday?”

“Because I'm in love with you. I've been in love with you since-”

“The Count Chocula incident, right. Wait, wasn't that like four months ago?”

“Something like that.”

“And you've been keeping it hidden from me, and from everyone.”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

Barry was actually starting to feel annoyed, now. Why was Dan torturing him, making him say all this stuff that he already knew?

“Because...because it's you, Dan. You're straight. I'm a man. Pretty obvious why it won't work out.”

Dan began to chew his lip nervously, and didn't say anything for a few minutes. The silence, punctuated only by the sound of the light rain pattering on the hood, was straining Barry's last nerve. “Dan?”

He sighed. “Yeah...about that...I don't, um...I'm not sure if...I might...”

“Dan!”

Dan jumped in his seat. “Jesus, Barry!”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I like guys, Barry. At least, I think I do. I haven't had a chance to confirm.”

Barry felt his mouth fall open, and his whole body suddenly go numb. “What?” he whispered.

Dan looked over at Barry nervously. “I thought you knew, that you'd figured it out somehow.”

“How could I have possibly known that?”

“I don't know, gaydar? You noticed me looking a little too long at Ross's stupid handsome face? I kind of wanted to tell you, but you haven't really been home too much lately.”

“Yeah, well, I've been trying not to think about how much it hurts, being in love with you, and having to act like nothing was wrong...being around you was killing me, and I thought if I just wrote out that email, and sent it to myself, it would help me clear my head a little. Act normal again.”

“Ohhh. That does make more sense, actually. I didn't really know what to make of that bit about how you couldn't be with me, but I figured I could maybe talk to you and convince you to rethink your stance on that.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

Silence once again permeated the car, and it took Barry's still-tipsy brain a couple minutes to put everything together. Once it clicked, he felt a laugh bubble up in his chest; he needed to confirm, though, before he let himself believe it.

“Do you like me, Dan?”

Dan smiled and nodded. “Finally got it, huh? When I read that email, you know, all that stuff you said about shopping and kissing and being disgustingly cute...it made me really happy, because it's what I've been thinking about too.”

Barry felt the corners of his mouth turn up automatically; he reached up and touched them in a haze, feeling a little disconnected from his body.

Dan spoke again. “You know, I wish we'd had this conversation weeks ago; it would have saved us both a lot of grief.”

“You could have told me you like guys.”

“You could have told me you were in love with me.”

Barry averted his eyes and sighed. “It's not the same thing, Dan. I was so afraid that you wouldn't want to live with me, or work with me, that I would lose everything.”

Dan's face scrunched up in disgust and disbelief. “Woah, man, that's a pretty big leap. You really think I'd just kick you out of my life, even if I couldn't return your feelings?”

Now that Barry's darkest and most pessimistic thoughts came out in the cold light of logic, he could agree that maybe he had jumped to conclusions a little quickly. “I...guess not.”

“Fuck no, man. I love you, Barry, and I would never do that kind of shit to you, no matter what. Okay?”

Barry could only nod and lean his head tiredly on Dan's shoulder. He felt Dan's arm wrap around him and rest on the hollow between his neck and shoulder and gently rub circles into his skin. Barry felt a sudden urge to laugh, to cry, to scream at the joy he felt from this simple touch. He couldn't believe how lucky he was in this moment; his hand reached up and began rubbing gently at Dan's scalp.

“Mmm. That's nice, Bar. Oh, and hey, please promise me that next time something's bothering you, you'll come to me and talk about it. I can't stand the thought of you suffering in silence because you think I'll hate you or something.”

“Okay, Dan. I'm sorry I was so closed-off; I should have known you'd be there for me.” He closed his eyes and murmured, “I do need to go back there at some point, though. I owe someone a really big tip.”

“Is that a euphemism?”

“Ugh, gross.” Barry giggled and leaned up, kissing Dan on the neck.

 


End file.
